


The Boiling Point

by Lilek



Series: Valhalla [10]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 02:13:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13203588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilek/pseuds/Lilek
Summary: Bjӧrn being an accidental witness.





	The Boiling Point

Ragnar Lothbrook was dead, Odin told him himself, and there was nothing Bjӧrn wanted to do more, than peacefully mourn his father. But there were expectations and traditions he needed to follow. First of all,  there was greatly demanded revenge, secondly there was boiling conflict between Lagertha and sons of Aslaug, and throwing all their forces to create Great Heathen Army was one way to stop the bloodshed among his family members. Ivar and Ubbe wanted to kill his mother, and the worst part of it, was that he didn’t even blame them. What she did was stupid, and risky, but he had an occasion to learn how dangeruos can be woman’s wounded pride. He was glad he did manage to come back before the worst could happen, but now he needed to put his plans aside, and step into shoes he didn’t really want to wear.  He knew he needed to avenge Ragnar, but it wasn’t the real call of his heart to get back to England and kill Saxon rulers. It was Ragnar’s plan … he had set all the boards and pieces, he was pulling all the strings, even from behind the magnificent walls of Valhalla.

Great Heathen Army was really impressive, and because of Bjӧrn’s age and experience among all the sons of Ragnar, he was natural leader for it. Everyone expected it, all the jarls and rulers from whole Scandinavia. He couldn’t give the honor to anyone else. Especially not to Ivar, who was barely tolerated by other warriors with his pathetic crawling, sneers and confident speeches about being the true and favourite son of Ragnar, blessed by the gods. There were moments Bjӧrn really regretted Ivar’s survival in England, because he just couldn’t stand his devious stares and his volatility, covered with annoying mask of arogant smiles.  No one took Ivar seriously, maybe with a little exception of Ubbe, but even him grew distant from his crippled brother lately, and he was directing all his energy and attention towards his freshly married wife, and sharing her with Hvitserk. Lagertha was angry with being forced to release her slave, but Bjӧrn knew, that from the beginning Ubbe treated the girl differently, and that he cared about her to much, to make her to have sex with Ivar without remorse. What he didn’t expect though, was Ubbe’s willingness to let his brother fuck the girl, even after he wedded her, without feeling possessive. It was rather entertaining to observe this love triangle between them, how they were sneaking out from working on preparations to bang that woman in the barns, or in the woods, it was making Bjӧrn even a little bit jelous. He loved Torvi, but sometimes his heart wanted new thrills, forbidden thrills, like secreatly meeting with Astrid and feeling great shame afterwards.

When they left Kattegat, Bjӧrn oriented all his strength and thoughts towards awaiting battle, even though his real interests were lying elsewhere, at Mediterranean Sea and exploratory expeditions, but he was going to fully indulge in them after. Defeating Aella was rather effortless, because Norns weight of numbers, but battle with king’s Ecbert forces needed more planning, which proved Ivar’s disturbing tactical sense.

„Oh, you crippled bastard! You were right! You were right! Oh, you bloody, mad genius. You were right!”, Floki was brimming over with joy, and he wasn’t the only one. People suddenly understood there is another way to fight with opponent, without quickly losing strength and resources and with using foreign landscape to their adventage. After the battle with Aethelwulf, Ivar started to arise respect, and the more he was talking about his right to command, the less ridiculousness he had provoked. It was getting on Bjӧrn’s nerves, but he couldn’t ignore the good, working plan, when he saw one.

He had also trouble with keeping in check his own growing admiration for „crippled, mad genius”, though he was determined not to give Ivar the satisfaction. He didn’t let him kill king Aella, by carry out a bloody eagle upon him, and that was really merciful of him. Ivar would tear the bastard into shreds, at least that was clearly visible on his face, when he was gazing into king’s suffering eyes, till his last breath.

The feast afterwards was loud and bold, full of toasts to future victory, and Bjӧrn was spending it on talking with Halfdan about his travelling plans, finding unexpected company in Harald’s brother. King of the Norway wasn’t in best mood during the feasting because of Bjӧrn’s and Halfdan’s bonding, but his unpleasant expression wasn’t half as bad as Sigurd’s, who was constantly clashing with his younger brother. Of course they were throwing insults towards each other while celebrating, Sigurd being nearly the only one left, who persisted Ivar’s strategy flair originated from madness, not exceptional intelligence, and Ivar being smartmouthed, little shit as always. Their argument reached the boiling point when Sigurd grabbed Ivar’s shirt, and smashed him into the ground, quickly earning some concret punches from his brother, accompanied by immediate prodding and laud, bloodthirsty shouts. Bjӧrn didn’t react outside of rolling his eyes, and he observed patiently his borthers bruised and bloody faces. Ubbe’s uneasiness wasn’t unnoticed by Bjӧrn, but against all expectations, his brother didn’t try to separate his fighting siblings, and reacted only when both of them nearly passed out from exhaustion. He gave Hvitserk a sign to help Sigurd, while he swayed Ivar up and threw him over his shoulder to carry him away towards the tent, shared by all of them. There was something disturbing about it, and Bjӧrn couldn’t fully focus his attention on earlier conversation, every so often checking if Ubbe had returned. When he didn’t for very long time, and when Sigurd and Hvitserk totally indulged themselves in drinking, Bjӧrn decided he needs to take a leak, which forced him from the table, and revealed wild dizziness in his head. He relieved himself behind some tree and decided it was time to take a nap. He was a leader of Great Heathen Army after all, and he needed to stay focused and prepared.

He staggered a little while walking to the tent, but he stopped suddenly before entering. It was a feeling, an intuition, though Bjӧrn felt ridiculous peeking inside like intrusive woman. Yet his precautions were proved to be reasonable, because what he saw inside, went beyond his undefined expectations. Bjӧrn was aware that Ubbe deeply cared for his brother, and all his life – thanks to Aslaug’s influence – he played the role of Ivar’s protector, but caresses he was giving his brother’s beaten-up face were disturbingly inappropriate. Bjӧrn’s brothers were laying on the furs next to each other, with faces so close they were almost touching. Their noses slightly poked and they were breathing each other’s air, which made all the tension around them almost unbearable. Ivar’s hand was rubbing Ubbe’s taut groin and in Bjӧrn’s perspective they weren’t fucking only because Ivar was visibly to aching for it. He almost puked witnessing this fucked up scene, but he decided it’s not the time, nor place for seeking another breaking point in their relationship. He stepped back, waited few minutes and very nosily coughed and cursed. He felt really stupid because of it, but at least when he enetered the tent, his brothers were laying harmlessly next to each other, pretanding to be asleep.


End file.
